


Eau de Brian

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Crossover, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-14
Updated: 2004-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Michael should never, ever get bored; vague spoilers for season four.





	Eau de Brian

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

"What about Corey Lanning?" Michael asked, pointing at the smallish black-and-white cropped photo in the yearbook he'd dug up. It was a Thursday afternoon, and Brian, one ball not quite up to rigorous anonymous tricking at Babylon - and quite sated anyways since it and its plastic mate had been quite firmly fondled by Justin's talented fingers just that morning - had called his best friend over to keep him company. And since Ben was busy working on a novel and Hunter, supposedly, was at the library for a study group, Michael figured he could spare a few hours. 

"Fucked him," Brian replied, puffing on the joint propped expertly between two fingers. He snorted at Michael's exasperated scoffing and surveyed the room blearily. "I should never have let you talk me into this," he grumbled drowsily, gesturing at the various fast-food wrappers and boxes spread out atop and around his once pristine glass-top coffee table. 

Michael just rolled his eyes. "You weren't exactly protesting when I pulled out the rotisserie chicken and coleslaw." Brian looked as if he wanted to fire back a retort, but Michael 'shush'-ed him and pointed at the TV. In addition to greasy, fatty food, Brian had been persuaded to watch "Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back". Michael had attempted to justify the choice as being able to use it for future "Rage" ideas, considering the film's heavy emphasis on comic books being turned into movies, but in the end, they'd both agreed it was because Jay getting high was even funnier when they were high themselves.

"What I can't believe," Jay was saying, "is why a bunch of fine-assed bitches like yourselves eat that stuff." He pointed to the Mooby meal Eliza Dushku's character was currently indulging in and made a face.

"Everyone farts if you eat this crap," Brian retorted, rolling his eyes. "It's all the fucking preservatives." 

"Hey, remember that farting contest we had up in my room that one time?" Michael reminisced, grinning suddenly. 

"Yeah," Brian snorted. "Your mom walked in, as per usual, and practically passed out on the floor when she got a whiff." 

"And then she was all like, 'Jesus Christ, have you been stockpiling the fucking trash in here for the past month or something?!'" Michael laughed. Be it the gigantic smile on his face or the fact that Michael's impressions of Debbie got better with each passing day, Brian quickly followed suit until both of them were cackling. 

"Hahahaha-" Michael shrieked, very nearly rolling around on the floor now, until a small rumbling stopped him and Brian momentarily in mid-snicker. "'Scuse me," Michael grinned sheepishly, plugging his nose comically with one hand and reaching behind him to fan his backside with the other.

"You farted," Brian observed, bursting into another fit of spontaneous giggles. He set the joint in an ashtray, making a quick executive decision that it'd be safer there as opposed to rolling around on his expensive carpet. "It sounded kinda like a dinosaur growling." 

"Nah, that'd be more like this," Michael countered, shutting his eyes as he squeezed his ass cheeks together in concentration. He was rewarded a moment later with a noise that sounded, to his benefit, quite growly. "Ha!" Michael exclaimed triumphantly. "Beat that."

"Yeah, yeah." Brian propelled himself up on his elbows and grimaced, the tip of his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth as he worked up his own bout of flatulence. "Aaahhhh," he sighed as his ass let loose its own stinky, noisy fanfare. "Ha ha, I win," Brian gloated.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" Michael queried. "'Cause you know, I totally beat you the last time." 

"Just because you got the last toot in before your mom interrupted us does not mean you won," Brian retorted. He concluded with a gust of wind out his rectum that sounded almost like a bugle call, and crowed, "so there!"

"Admit it, you were running on low fumes at that point, anyway," Michael gasped, expelling his counterattack with one leg kicked up in the air as if propelling it out. Brian followed up with something that was loud enough to reverberate off the walls of the loft, and Michael's reply to that sounded almost wet. 

"Ha ha, I think you shit your pants that time," Brian giggled, choking, the pungent aroma not entirely lost on his marijuana-dulled senses. Nonetheless, the normally prissy advertising executive, who usually refused even to touch a door handle in a public establishment with his bare hands for fear of germs, flexed his well-exercised anal muscles, finally producing a fart not only gamey in scent, but juicy in sound. It was also quite impressive in length, and was still being extoled when Justin pushed the loft door open. Staring at his lover's jeans-clad ass in the throes of flatulent bliss, the boy stood wide-eyed, pressing his hand over his mouth in shock and horror. 

Michael glanced at Justin out of the corner of his eye and commenced giggling anew; Brian turned around and shot Justin a ridiculously dopey, lopsided grin. There was a long, awkward silence, finally broken by Michael.

"I think you won this round." 

Brian grinned smugly, obviously both very baked and very proud of this declaration. "I won," he told Justin happily.

"I didn't realize it was a competition," Justin said, blinking as his eyes began to water. "Christ, Brian, what did you eat?" He took in the mangled remains of his lover's and Michael's dinner and had his answer. "Oh." 

"Want some?" Brian offered, sitting up to dig through the KFC bag. "There's probably an extra piece left." He grinned sluggishly. "I know how much you like your extra pieces, Sunshine."

"Yeah, I'll pass," Justin said quickly, crinkling his nose as he gingerly maneuvered towards the bedroom. "Um," he said, turning around at the stairs. "Just ... take a shower before you come to bed, Brian." His departure, however, was anti-climatic compared to the now familiar sound of somebody passing gas as it eminated from the television set. "Holy shit, that little stoner was right!" one of the movie's token hot blonde chicks shrieked in dismay. 

"I think she beat you," Michael grinned at Brian, watching as the other man picked up the long-neglected joint and inhaled deeply. 

"Nah," Brian said. "Hers didn't almost make Justin keel over." 

"Oh, yeah," Michael replied. "I guess Justin wins, then."

"Somehow," Brian snickered, closing his eyes and relaxing on the ground, despite the haze that had settled over the room, "I don't think he appreciates that too much."


End file.
